


Nobody Gets Left Behind

by MaybeItWasMemphis



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Age Difference, Child Abuse, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Smut, Underage Drinking, trigger warning for child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26828692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeItWasMemphis/pseuds/MaybeItWasMemphis
Summary: A young actress, abused and on the verge of a breakdown. A country singer experiencing his first big break. Can Brantley teach Ginny that when it comes to love and family, nobody gets left behind? Read and find out.
Relationships: Brantley Gilbert/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	1. The Chapter Where I Wish I Had Mosquito Bites

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t know him, never met him, and begging my husband to take me to see him in concert when the world reopens. This story is fictional, and my first break away from my ‘no married men’ story rule that I have officially 86’d. Brantley Gilbert is happily married to the rare wife-of-a-celebrity that I actually like because she doesn’t make my skin crawl. B.G. managed to avoid marrying a golddigger like 95% of male celebrities. Good for him, and absolutely no disrespect meant!
> 
> Author’s Note: My lifelong best friend and partner in numerous (alleged) crimes @NickTheDiva challenged me to try and slip in as many B.G. song titles as I could while re-writing this story. See if you can spot them.

** NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE  **

** JUNE 2009 **

I hate my life. I mean it. I 100% detest my life.

I slowly unwrapped the ace bandage that the wardrobe lady had bound my breasts with. Why had she done this? Yeah, I thought you might ask. You see, my name is Imogen Kyle. I’m almost eighteen-years-old, and I’ve been an actress pretty much since birth thanks to my money-hungry father. While I had once been an adorable little girl who had passed for Shirley Temple in a biopic about her, I now more closely resembled a 1960’s _Playboy Playmate_. I had definitely inherited my late mother’s curves. That was for damn sure. This had presented a problem because the role that had made me famous when I was twelve was that of Marleigh Chandler. Marleigh Chandler was a teenage ‘tracker’ of super-enhanced mutants on the TV show ‘ _Bluff City_.’ On the show, Marleigh was currently fifteen, and with a pair of (natural) DD’s, I sure as hell didn’t look fifteen. I did NOT possess a typical teenager’s body. I had started developing quickly during the show’s second season and had endured more ace bandage wraps than I care to remember.

I gently massaged my chest as I examined myself in the mirror of my small trailer. I could see where the bruises were already beginning to develop around and under my breasts, blending in with the yellow and green semi-healed ones. I looked like a fucking freak.

A knock on the door almost made me jump out of my skin. I quickly grabbed a t-shirt and threw it on. “What?”

The door opened, and the friendly face of my friend and castmate, Brandon, appeared. “Hey, girlie, wanna go to a party with me tonight at the _Blue Bird Café_?” He stepped all the way inside and closed the door behind him.

I rolled my blue eyes. “You know that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will never allow that.”

For those of you who are curious, He-Who-Must-Not-Be- is what I call my asshole father. You-Know-Who, Voldemort, Darth Vader, and his given name (not really), Lucifer are also acceptable nicknames.

“Just don’t tell him. He’ll probably be passed out drunk by the time you get home anyway.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Just tell him that filming ran a little late today.”

“Who’s throwing the party?”

“This dude I met at a bonfire party last week,” Brandon explained. “He goes by B.G. It’s his album released party.”

An album release party at the _Blue Bird Café_ on Music Row meant that B.G. was a country singer. It sounded like my kind of party. “Sure, I’ll go. Just let me finish getting changed.”

“I’ll wait.” Brandon nodded, but he made no attempt to leave my trailer.

Jesus. He could be so obtuse sometimes. “That means that you have to leave, numbnuts,” I spoke very slowly while giving him a pointed look that told him that I didn’t want him ogling my goodies while I changed. We weren’t _that_ close.

“Oh, right. My bad!” He quickly made his exit.

Seeing as the only clothes that I had brought with me from home this morning were the ripped jeans and a Johnny Cash t-shirt that I had arrived in, I decided to borrow an outfit from my character. I went to the clothing rack in the back of the trailer and quickly looked through my wardrobe choices. I chose a white sundress that tired around the neck, so I didn’t have to wear a bra and aggravate my bruises further. It was short and cute and had a gold ribbon tied around the waist. My character wore it in the upcoming week’s episode about a mutant tornado that takes out the high school dance. It seemed appropriate for an album release party, and it was sexy but not immodest… so long as I didn’t dance…or run…or make any sudden movements whatsoever. Why couldn’t I have mosquito bites like the rest of the popular actresses my age who hadn’t been surgically enhanced?


	2. The Chapter Where I Drink Too Much Awesomesauce

Okay. This was the last time I let Brandon drag me to a party. Most of the guests in attendance were industry types who were way older than me. There was no one to talk to. No guys to dance with, not that I could in this dress but still. I was a millennial surrounded by Generation X and, worse, Baby Boomers. On top of that, Brandon had ditched me over an hour ago to chase some tatted-up chick named Georgie, who was seriously NOT interested in him.

“You don’t look like you’re havin’ a very good time, darlin’,” a deep southern voice broke me out of my thoughts.

I was seated alone at a small round table in the very back of the bar with the misleading name of café. While I had been spacing out, I had been joined by an incredibly good looking man who actually looked like he was from the same generation as me, probably only a handful of years older. His ears were both pierced, and he was clean-cut with a muscular build and green eyes. He struck me as a good ole boy masquerading as the boy-next-door. Basically, he looked like the male equivalent of me. I was a virgin, but even I would admit that he looked lickable.

“Yeah, well, I’m a lot younger than, like, everyone here.” I pointed out the obvious as I took a sip out of my glass. I had no clue what I was drinking. I was underage, so Brandon, who was twenty-two, ordered my drinks and brought me whatever he thought I might like. He’d made a good choice tonight because the fruity mix I was drinking was making me totally chill.

“Than why are you here?” He countered.

 _‘Touche, sir,_ ’ I thought to myself.

“Because if my best friend jumped off a cliff, I’d probably jump too?” I tried my hand at being witty.

The fruity drink must have improved my dry personality because the dude actually laughed. Score one for fruity alcohol!

“What’s your name, young blood?” He took a sip out of his own glass.

Oh, awesome! He didn’t know who I was. I was going into this with a clean slate. “Imogen, but most people seem to realize that it was a cruel burden for my parents to place on my shoulders and simply call me Ginny.” Oh, this fruity cup of awesomesauce was turning me into a witty smartass ala my acting hero, Robin Williams.

He laughed again before catching my eye and politely nodding his head at me. “Nice to meet you, Ginny. I’m Brantley, but most people call me B.G.”

“B.G., too short.” I shook my head in mock seriousness. “I’m going to have to call you Brantley.”

“Princess,” he smirked. “You can call me whatever you like.”

Hold the damn phone. Was County McSexy hitting on me? I could roll with this. “Oh, really? And why is that?”

My question must have taken him by surprise because he paused for a second and chuckled to himself before he responded. “Because the lady is always right, of course.”

Oh, he was _smooth_.

“Listen, darlin’, I got a thirty-minute set and then I’m free for the rest of the night.” Brantley licked his lips. “Wanna go for a midnight ride with me?”

I glanced up at the banner that hung above the stage.

**_*** BRANTLEY GILBERT_ **

**_A MODERN DAY PRODIGAL SON ***_ **

Snap! This was Brandon’s friend. He was famous too. “Sure,” I played it cool.

I knew that I probably should tell him that I was seventeen, but that was only for another two months. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. It’s not like I was planning on sleeping with the dude tonight.

“Sweet,” Brantley smiled and stood. “I’ll come and find you when I’m done.” He leaned down and kissed my cheek, and I’m positive my toes curled.


	3. The Chapter Where We Both Decide to Beat Our Friend’s Ass

After his set, Brantley immediately came to find me, and we headed out. He had a restored Firebird in the parking lot, and we got lost on the backroads that led out of Nashville. We goofed off, singing along to the radio before finding a deserted wooded area to pull off. I had a feeling that I know where things were headed, and I was now sober enough to think clearly. I needed to shut this down.

“Brantley, how old are you?” I pulled away just as he leaned in to kiss me.

“Twenty-five, why, baby?” He cupped my cheek in his hand.

Fuck. I’d known he was older, but I didn’t think he was eight years older.

I wouldn’t meet his gaze in the Tennessee moonlight. “Brantley, I won’t be eighteen until August.”

Brantley pulled back quickly. “Shit! I knew you were on that _Quiet Bluff_ TV show, but I thought you were at least twenty-two like Brandon.”

I chose to overlook the fact that he had pretended not to know who I was when he had introduced himself and shook my head. “No. I’m sorry. I should have told you, but I was drunk, and I really like you.”

“I really like you too.” Brantley ran a hand over his face. “Damn it! Alright, new plan. I’m gonna take your fine ass home. We’re gonna exchange numbers and cool it til’ your birthday…which you better be prepared to spend with me, sugar.”

My eyes flew to his. “You’re not blowing me off?”

“Nah,” he looked at me and smiled. “I asked Brandon to bring you. I kinda got a thing for ya. I can wait.”

I melted. I truly did. “How much trouble is Brandon in for not telling you I was seventeen?”

“Oh, I’ma beat that boy’s ass the next time I see him,” he laughed. “How much trouble is he in for not telling you that tonight was a setup?”

It was my turn to laugh. “You can beat his ass if there’s anything left of him when I’m done with him.”


	4. The Chapter Where I Get a Man…Officially

For the next few weeks, Brantley and I stayed in touch via phone and e-mail. He was traveling all over the country, promoting his debut album and was rarely in Nashville although he owned a home there. I was kept busy filming my show and by trying to stay the hell out of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s way. Once I turned eighteen in August I would legally be allowed to fire my dad and hire my own manager. And that’s exactly what I planned to do. I just wanted to avoid telling Voldemort until the last possible moment for safety reasons.

It was Brandon’s birthday and his mom, Kattee, and I had decided to throw him a weekend beach party to celebrate. We rented a beach house on the Outer Banks of North Carolina and Kattee had played the role of the responsible parent and went to Darth Vader to get his permission to take me on the trip. Kattee would only be there for the first day of the mini-vacation but she didn’t tell the Dark Lord that. She knew how he could be.

It was a one-day drive to Kill Devil Hills, North Carolina, and I made the trip with Brandon. We left Nashville at dusk on Thursday, and we arrived at the beach house just as the sun was getting on Friday. I was so exhausted from that drive that I didn’t notice the Harley motorcycle that was parked in the driveway. I just grabbed my bags out of Brandon’s trunk and hauled them up to the room that was designated as mine for the weekend. When I opened the door, I damn near had a heart attack because someone else was already occupying it.

“Surprise, princess.”

“Jesus, God, Brantley!” I tossed my bags at the foot of the bed before bringing a hand up to cover my heart. “What the hell are you doing here?” I had spoken to him just that morning when we had stopped to stretch our legs in Charlotte. He had told me that he was visiting his parents in Georgia.

“I missed you,” Brantley shrugged his shoulders, and my eyes were brawn to his muscular arms encased in his tight black t-shirt. Sure, they were sexy, but that isn’t what caught my attention. The last time I had seen him in the flesh, he hadn’t been inked. Now he appeared to be collecting tattoos like they were Pokemon cards. I was definitely a fan. “What, are you not happy to see your man, darlin’?” He was smirking at me, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kiss him or smack him.

“Who said you were my man?” I smirked right back at him.

“Don’t even play,” Brantley shook his head. His tone of voice had gone from playful and light to deep and possessive. “When I agreed to wait for you, I kinda assumed that it meant that you were waiting for me too.”

“Don’t act like that,” I scoffed. “You know damn well where I’m at at all times these days. I’m either on set, with Brandon or Kattee, or I’m on the phone with you. Whatever the hell this is,” I gestured between the two of us, “will be over pretty friggin’ quick if you’re gonna start questioning my ability to stay faithful.”

Brantley’s anger seemed to dissipate in an instant. “I don’t question that you can be faithful, princess. You’re a good girl, and I know that.” He seemed to be sincere. “I don’t even know what the hell I was trying to say. I’m sorry. You’ve had me all sorts of mixed-up since the day I met you, baby.”

I smiled at him. “Same. And you’re forgiven.”

“Am I allowed to hug you, or are you gonna punch me in the throat if I try?” He teased me.

I laughed. “Why don’t you risk it and find out?”

“Now, that’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Brantley grabbed my hand and pulled me to stand in front of him. Reaching up, he cupped my cheek in his hand and leaned in so close that I could smell the tobacco and mint on his breath. “I know you ain’t eighteen yet, but you think I could steal a kiss to hold me over until your birthday?”

“You can steal as many kisses as you want. I ain’t tellin’.” I hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but I was happy I did when Brantley grinned right before his lips came down on mine in a tender, sweet kiss.

“So, am I your man yet?” Brantley’s arms wrapped around my waist, and he nuzzled his nose against my cheek.

“You’ve been my man since that first night at the Blue Bird, and you know it.” I leaned in and kissed him again.

I knew that with both of us in the public eye that we would have to keep our relationship on the down low. But a month and a half wasn’t that long of a time…right? I guess I was going to find out.


	5. The Chapter with the Late Night Stroll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry that this update took me five months to post. I was struggling with my bipolar disorder this past summer. I needed time away to get my head screwed back on straight. That might sound like TMI, but I’m all about breaking the stigma associated with mental illness. My old tumblr was shut down during my breakdown, so if you had a story request in, I lost it. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I deleted it to get away from political trolling. New tumblr is antisocialwonder. If you resubmit the request, I’ll work on it once I’m done updating all of my neglected stories.

The night, Brantley took me for a late-night stroll on the beach. It was a clear and beautiful North Carolina spring night.

“I meant to ask, what’s with the new look?” We had come across a large stump of driftwood, and Brantley had pulled me to sit beside him on it.

“What’s wrong, darlin’, you don’t like it?” He playfully bumped his shoulder into mine.

“Actually, I love it,” I admitted. “It fits you better.”

“I tried the clean-cut choir boy look ‘cause my label thought I’d get more female fans that way. It wasn’t me.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “You really like it, princess?”

I cuddled into his side. “Don’t get my wrong, I’ve always thought you were hot, but that first night we met, you did kind of look like you were auditioning to join a redneck boyfriend,” I giggled.

“You wound me, woman.” Brantley’s hand came down to playfully tickle my side.

“You getting any more tattoos, or are you done?” I had a thing for tattoos and had always wanted at least one myself.

“I know I want to get at least a few more,” Brantley answered. “One of ‘em I’ma need your help deciding on where it goes.”

“Why?” Not that the thought bothered me. If it meant I got to see him shirtless, I’d help him plan a million tattoos.

“You gotta show me where to put your name so you can mark me as yours.”

Holy crap, Batman! Did Brantley Gilbert, the hottest country music singer currently around, just tell me that I could essentially brand him?

“Slow down, Trouble.” I laid my head down on his shoulder as the salt-flavored breeze blew around us. We could hear the waves crashing in the distance, but we could barely see them in the half-moon light. “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. For all you really know, I’m a living nightmare. Make damn sure you want to keep me before you go shooting any ink.”

“I already know that I’m keeping you, baby.” He kissed my forehead. “I don’t have a lost soul’s prayer in hell of finding a more perfect woman for me. You’re it, Ginny. You’ll see.” Brantley sounded so sure of himself and us.

“We will,” I replied for lack of anything better to say.

“You wanna sneak into my room tonight to sleep with me?” He spoke huskily into my ear.

“Um…” I was totally at a loss for words now.

“I really mean to just sleep, baby doll,” he rushed to add. “I’ll behave myself. Hand to God. We just ain’t gonna really get any more time together until your birthday. I just wanna hold you.”

Alright, I’ll admit it, I was internally swooning like an Edwardian drama queen. “Okay, but we’ve got to be careful. Kattee’s cool, but she’s not that cool. She will cut your balls off if she catches us.”


	6. The Chapter with the Sleepover

Sneaking out of my room and into Brantley’s had been pretty simple. By the time we returned from the beach, everyone else in the house had already retired for the night. I had quickly changed and gone about my nightly routine before quietly tiptoeing next door to Brantley’s room.

He was already lying in bed waiting for me when I got there. The lights were off, so the only light was coming from the open sliding glass door. Even with the limited light I could see that my boyfriend was wearing a light-colored t-shirt which struck me as odd. Brantley didn’t seem the type to wear a shirt to bed.

When he noticed me, he threw back the covers. “Lock the door and come here, princess,”

I rushed to obey him. Slipping under the covers, I moved over to lay cuddled into his chest. “What’s with the shirt?”

Brantley chuckled huskily. “I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

I laughed quietly. “Brantley, nothing about you makes me uncomfortable, babe.”

He lightly pushed me off his chest. “Sit up for a sec, baby girl.”

Once I did, I watched as he reached behind him and tugged his shirt over his head and threw it to the floor. He laid back down and held out his arms to me. “Come here.”

This time when I snuggled up to his naked chest, I was feeling something, but it certainly wasn’t uncomfortable. I couldn’t resist laying a kiss over his heart.

Brantley hissed.

“Sorry,” I immediately started to pull away.

“No, honey, come back here.” He gently pulled me back to him and wrapped me tightly in his arms. “You didn’t do nothin’ wrong. You just severely underestimate how gorgeous you are and how badly I want you.”

I was a virgin, but I wasn’t an idiot. I had turned him on by kissing his chest. It made me feel kind of powerful knowing the strong effect that I had on him. I decided to test out my new powers. “Only a few more months and you can show me how much you want me, baby.”

Brantley groaned and held me a little tighter. “Princess, that was evil and ya know it.”


	7. The Chapter Where I Get Confronted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of child abuse.

My internal clock woke me at the crack of dawn. I guess because my subconscious wanted to give me a good window of time to sneak back into my own room. Not that I wanted to leave, mind you. I was laying on my stomach and I could feel Brantley’s arm thrown protectively around my lower back. I don’t think I had ever slept better, and I know I had never felt more comfortable and safe. I kind of felt like crying when I considered the fact that I wouldn’t be allowed to feel this way again until August. I silently vowed to make the most of the weekend. I knew that once Kattee left this morning to return to Nashville we would be allowed to be a lot more open with our affection. None of my friends would care so long as I wasn’t being stupid or getting hurt.

I rolled over onto my side and was surprised to find Brantley awake and in the same position but facing me. I was worried when I noticed the angry crease of his forehead and the hard look in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Brantley sat up without saying a word and pulled me to do the same. Then he floored and slightly terrified me when grabbed the hem of the oversized Superman t-shirt that I wore to bed and pulled it over my head. He threw the garment to the floor and he pushed me to lay back down. I was only wearing a pair of Disney boy shorts with Stitch from Lilo & Stitch printed all over them. When I realized that Brantley wasn’t even looking at my exposed breasts, I realized this wasn’t sexual and I became more confused than I was scared.

“Your shirt was bunched up to your chest when I woke up,” Brantley finally spoke. “It was a hell of a morning treat until I saw these.” He ran his knuckles along all the bruises that lay under my breasts and all over my stomach.

I opened my mouth to give him the same rehearsed excuse that I gave everyone else, but he held up a hand to stop me. “I know you bruise easily, and I know you bind your chest at work, you’ve told me that before.” He shook his head and ran his hand down to a large nasty-looking bruise located just above my naval. “That’s not where these bruises came from. This one, baby, I can actually see the outline of a man’s fist. I need you to be honest with me,” he spoke sternly. “Who the fuck is putting his hands on you?”


	8. The Chapter Where the Truth Comes Out

I started to cry, and I couldn’t bring myself to say the words that he wanted me to say. I just brought my hands up to cover my face as I sobbed.

Brantley grabbed my wrists and pulled me back into his arms. He buried his face in the side of my neck and held me tight, like her never wanted to let me go. “Imogen, please, baby doll, tell me who hurt you so I can make sure that it never happens again.” His breath was warm on my skin as he spoke.

“You can’t stop it,” I told him miserably. “Only me turning eighteen will stop it.”

“Your daddy did this to you?” He pulled back to look at me, wiping my tears away with his palms at the same time.

“It’s only when I disobey,” I shared as new tears replaced the ones that Brantley had already wiped away. “And I’ve learned how to mostly stay on his good side. I only got these bruises because I forgot to ask the housekeeper to pick up more Jack Daniels. I can’t just leave. I tried that once, when I was fifteen. I ran away to my cousin’s house. Voldemort called the police. They came and picked me up and took me home. You-Know-Who took out a restraining order against my cousin so I couldn’t run there again. He’s smart and plays the system. Until I’m eighteen he controls my money, my career, everything.”

“You can come and live with me,” Brantley chose to kiss my tears away this time. “I can take care of you, princess.”

I smiled sadly. “If I ran off with you, my dad would called the cops and say we’re sleeping together. Then he would leak the news of your arrest to the press and your career would be over. I don’t want to lose you, Brantley, and if we don’t wait until August, I will.”

“I can’t just sit back while my woman’s getting hurt,” Brantley argued.

I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I promise to stay out of the Dark Lord’s way, and I’ll stay in constant contact with you.”

“And I’ll rearrange my schedule to keep me in Nashville until your birthday.” Brantley finally relented and started to compromise with me. He had to know that I was right. There was no other option than to wait for my birthday. “But you have to promise me that if you even suspect he’s gonna lay his hands on you, you call me.”

“I promise,” I nodded.

“And you swear to me that you’ll have your stuff packed up and ready to move to my place by your birthday.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want? I can just rent an apartment or something.” I didn’t want him asking me to move in just because he felt the need to play the white knight to my damsel in distress.

Brantley leaned down and took my lips in a bruising kiss. “You’re what I want,” he declared when he pulled back. “After your birthday, I promise you won’t want to leave my bed. I’m probably gonna be hell on an angel like you but let me try to make you happy, baby.”

“You don’t have to try.” For the first time in my short life, I cried happy tears. “You already make me happy, babe.”


	9. The Chapter Where There Ain’t No Doubt About It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own the song. I just miss the 90s.

Once Kattee had departed Brantley had become way more affectionate with me. On our final night in North Carolina, we held a bonfire on the beach. It wasn’t wild by any definition of the word. Everyone lounged around, nursing drinks or dancing to the music that was being blared from speakers that sat on the porch of the house. An old Neal McCoy song from my childhood came on and Brantley set his beer aside and jumped up to his feet. He reached out his hand and pulled me up too.

“Dance with me, baby doll,” he requested.

I smiled and nodded, and he wrapped his arms around my waist. I wrapped mine loosely around his neck. We started to lightly sway to the music.

_“Like a hammer and a nail,_

_Socks and shoes,_

_We go hand and hand like a rhythm and blues._

_What good is a man who hasn’t got a dream?_

_About as good as a car with no gasoline._

_You’re the one I’m dreamin’ of,_

_Got to have your love,_

_I can’t live without it._

_We were meant to be together,_

_No doubt about it…”_

Brantley leaned down and nuzzled my ear with his nose. “Ginny, baby,” his voice was low and husky as he spoke directly into my ear, his beer scented breath warming my skin. “I love you.”

I had already guessed as much because I felt the exact same way. I went to tell him so, but he stopped me with a kiss. “Not yet, darlin’,” he said when he pulled away. “Wait until your birthday. The first time you say it, I want it to be when I’m lookin’ in your eyes and buried inside for the first time.”

I shivered before giggling. “Baby, are you trying to kill me? You know your voice is pure sex, right?”

“I’ve been told that once or twice,” he acknowledged. “It’s only fair, baby,” he smirked. “I spend at least 50% of the time that I’m with you hard as a rock.”

I blushed but I still managed to tease him. “Only 50% of the time? Damn, I’ll have to do better.”

Brantley laughed. “Doll face, you get any better and you’ll kill me. You wanna go for a ride with me on my bike?”

“Only if we can find a tattoo parlor and you, as icky as it sounds, pretend to be my older brother so I can get a tattoo.” I’d been thinking about this for a while and I was a tad bit tipsy.

Brantley looked surprised but he nodded. “My buddy has a shop in town. He’ll bend the rules for me. No need to fake anything and give myself friggin’ nightmares.”


	10. The Chapter Where There’s a Time Jump

Time moved at a snail’s pace after my mini-vacation with Brantley. I finished the last reshoots for Quiet Bluff’s season finale, and Brantley occupied himself in the studio while we counted down to my birthday. We hadn’t seen each other in a month and a half, and I missed him like crazy. There was still two weeks until I turned eighteen, and time seemed to slow down more with every passing hour. My preoccupation with missing my boyfriend was probably what made me slip up in front of You-Know-Who.

Voldy was away on a weekend gambling trip to the Cherokee Reservation in North Carolina, and I had nothing better to do, so on Sunday morning, I put on my favorite two-piece bathing suit and spent the day in the pool. I hadn’t been able to swim while Darth Vader was home because then he would see my tattoo. Brantley’s friend had done as I wanted and tattooed Stitch from Lilo and Stitch on my left shoulder. I had to be careful what I wore around Darth, or he would see it. None of my bathing suits covered it.

I was goofing off and texting Brantley while hanging out in the shallow end of the pool. I jumped up and perched on the ledge of the pool to take a selfie and then set it to my boyfriend with a two-word message.

_* I’m lonely *_

Brantley responded fast.

**_** And I’m now hard enough to cut a diamond. Fuck, you’re gorgeous, baby doll. **_ **

_* And I’m all yours. *_

**_** Hell yeah, you are, sexy girl. I can’t wait to get you under me. **_ **

_* What about on top of you? Is that allowed? *_

**_** Princess, it’s encouraged. And, WHITE FLAG! You win, baby. You got to cut it out, Gin. I’m dying over here. **_ **

My laughter was interrupted by the sliding glass door that led out to the patio slamming.

“What the fuck is on your shoulder?” Voldy’s screams were slurred, and I knew I was totally fucked. He was shit faced.

I had lost track of time while texting Brantley. Before my evil parental unit got to me, I was able to send one last text. It contained only one word. Before had left North Carolina, Brantley and I had set a code word. If I was in danger, Brantley made me promise to send this word via text to let him know that I was in trouble.

_* OHANA *_


	11. The Chapter That Needs a Huge Trigger Warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: DESCRIPTIONS OF ABUSE BELOW. READER BEWARE!

I was semi-conscious when I heard the front door being kicked in. Voldemort didn’t just find out about the tattoo. He had taken my phone and read my text messages. After his first three punches and having my head slammed against the concrete side of the pool twice, I had blessedly blacked out. When I came to, I realized that I had somehow made it onto the porch. I could hear emergency sirens in the distance, coming ever closer. My body was numb from what I prayed was shock. It was getting harder and harder to draw breath, and my vision was starting to blur. Darth Vader was gone, thank the good Lord. Brantley appeared above me. I think he was crying when he spoke to me, his voice sounding like a faraway echo.

“Ginny, baby, keep your eyes open. Come on now, stay with me. Please, baby girl. No! open your eyes!”

I wanted to do as he was begging me to do, but my body wouldn’t let me.

***

I was lost in a dream-like existence for what seemed like an eternity. Sometimes I could hear what was going on around me, but I couldn’t wake up.

“Imogen, sweetheart, I need you to come back to me. I don’t want to live in a world you’re not in. I love you, baby.”

In my head, I was screaming to him that I loved him too, but I couldn’t open my eyes and tell him.

Brandon and Kattee seemed to be frequent visitors. Brandon would talk to me and play music for me. 90% of the time, the music was Brantley’s. Kattee spoke to me from time to time, but mostly, she read. One visit it would be Bible verses about strength and healing. The next visit, she would read me one of my favorite books. She would always pray above me before she left.

Everyone seemed to be praying for me, but only Brantley’s prayers broke my heart.

“Dear God, I know that you’ve blessed me beyond what I deserve given my past. I have no right to ask for anything more, but I’m a selfish man when it comes to Ginny. Please, Lord, reach out your hand and help her to heal. I need her…so much. I’ll give up everything; the fame, the money, even the damn talent. Please, just give Ginny a second chance. She ain’t done yet. She can’t be.”

“He needs you, sweetpea.”

I knew that voice, but I hadn’t heard it in years. No one on earth had.

“Mommy?”

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles are 100% based on the way "Friends" episodes are named. You know, they all start with "The one where..."


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